


And Baby Makes Two

by super3000



Series: Raegan Riggins is Cooler than You [1]
Category: Friday Night Lights
Genre: Future Fic, Kid Fic, Statistically speaking TIm Riggins has to have a kid somewhere, Surprise Baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-26 14:11:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2654936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/super3000/pseuds/super3000
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim Riggins is a landowner, a homeowner, a beloved uncle, a reformed criminal, a hell of a football player, and a father. That last one is a surprise, but it's one he's actually pretty prepared to handle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hoosierbitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoosierbitch/gifts).



> So hoosierbitch made me watch Friday Night Lights and it's glorious. She said I should write Tim Riggins/anyone fic, so instead I wrote the tropey kidfic I've always had inside me.
> 
> This is a WIP and completely unbeta'd. I'm in exam week for my first semester of grad school, so chapter two may take a little bit, but after that I'll have some free time to kill. =) Hope you enjoy!

Ten years after jail, life is better than Tim Riggins ever thought it would be. Sure, he’d talked about “Texas forever” in a grand sense when they were sixteen and drunk and stupid and thought they were immortal, but even back then he hadn’t expected to really live a good life. He was always going to end up stuck in Dillon, washed up, no good. That was what happened to guys like him.

And yet, here he is at not quite thirty, and he’s happy. He’s got his own little ranch, he’s got a few boys working for him part time (usually kids Billy and the other coaches ask him to take on to scare them straight or give them a chance to earn some cash), and he’s got his family close by. He has dinner with Billy, Mindy, Stevie, and the twins every so often, he sees Becky pretty often, and he has friends that he’s never played football with—just people who he knows and who like him. It’s kind of weird.

His days have a rhythm of sorts.

A slightly dusty silver sedan he doesn’t recognize bumping slowly up his driveway in the middle of the day on a Monday in early spring is no part of that rhythm. Tim finishes up in the front paddock, wipes his hands, and jogs over to meet a woman in a dark pantsuit with a file full of folders.

“Can I help you?” he asks once he’s close enough.

The woman shades her eyes with her hands. “I’m looking for a mister Tim Riggins.”

“That would be me.”

She looks him up and down and doesn’t seem overwhelmed with joy or disappointment. “Mister Riggins,” she says seriously, “My name is Carol Logan and I’m with CPS. I’m afraid I have to tell you that Jennifer Demarco died over the weekend.”

The name is familiar, but not as familiar as Carol Logan seems to think it ought to be. “I’m sorry, I don’t know who that is,” Tim tells her, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Wait. Jenny Demarco? From Austin?” He’d gone to Austin for a weekend and met a nice girl there. They’d had a thumb wrestling battle and had sex in the shower of his hotel room, then ordered in food and watched stupid reality tv and had sex again. Then he’d promised to call her if he was in Austin again and gone home. That was nearly two years ago, but he hadn’t had a reason to go back to Austin, so he’d barely thought of her since.

Ms. Logan nods. Tim brushes the hair from his face and says, “I’m real sorry to hear that. Did you know her?”

Ms. Logan gives him a doubtful look. “No, Mr. Riggins,” she explains. “I’m with Child Protective Services. I’m here to discuss your daughter.

:~:~:

“Your what?” Billy asks, face slack with stupidity.

“My daughter,” Tim repeats and takes a long slug from his beer. “My one year old daughter whose mom just died in a fucking car crash, Billy.” Saying it over isn’t making it feel any more real. “They said they’ll do a paternity test to be sure, but in the mean time she’ll be in my custody since I’m listed on the birth certificate and passed the inspection she gave me and my house.”

“You have a kid. Holy shit,” Billy exclaims. “When are they bringing her?”

“Tomorrow.” Tim scrubs a hand over his face. “Do y’all still have your baby stuff?”

Luckily Mindy’s sensible (and paranoid after the surprise twins), so all of the Rigglet baby stuff worth saving is packed in boxes. He and Billy dig it out, load it in the truck, and unpack it in Tim’s guest room. There’s a crib, a bunch of clothes, some toys, a bunch of tiny bowls and plates and bottles. and more. The boxes nearly fill his truck, especially when he adds a few bags of groceries—stuff he needed already plus a supply of formula and baby food. And a couple of pacifiers. And a stuffed animal he saw on the way to the checkout. 

Billy helps him unload it all and reassemble the crib. They drink beer and talk about how Stevie and the twins are doing at school, what position Stevie’s going to end up playing in football someday, how the Panthers are doing. It’s nice. They don’t get a lot of time just the two of them anymore what with two businesses and more family than they’d ever expected to have. And, apparently, there’s more on the way.

:~:~:

Ms. Logan pulls up to his house late the next morning and Tim has nearly worn the grass on his front lawn bare pacing. 

“Mr. Riggins,” she says with a nod as she gets out of the car.

“Hi, ma’am. You can call me Tim,” he offers. She nods again and goes around to the back of the car. “Is that her?” he asks, then immediately feels stupid. It’s not like this woman is driving around with a car full of babies.

“Yes. This is Raegan Riggins,” Ms. Logan says as she lifts a small, white-blanketed bundle out of the car seat. “Would you like to hold your daughter?”

“Yeah, uh, of course,” Tim manages to get out and then she’s there and he’s holding her more carefully than he can remember holding anything ever, even his nephews. She’s half asleep from the car ride, so she just blinks up at him slowly. “Hi there, little lady. It’s nice to meet you.” She yawns and her whole face scrunches up. “I’m sorry it’s just happening now,” he whispers as he settles her against one shoulder.

“Well, shall we get the paperwork sorted?” Ms. Logan prompts him.

Tim leads her inside to the kitchen table. Raegan is making a growly sound the way Chris and Matthew used to when they were hungry, so while Ms. Logan opens a manila folder of paperwork, Tim grabs one of the containers of formula and starts fixing a bottle.

“You weren’t kidding about how much experience you have,” Ms. Logan says approvingly. 

“My brother has three kids, and I used to help out a lot because having a two-year-old and twin babies in the house can get pretty crazy,” Tim explains. He settles into the chair around the corner from hers and shifts the baby into the crook of one arm so he can give her the bottle.

“Normally I have to explain how to do a bottle, how to change a diaper, how the clothing size system works, everything,” Ms. Logan says. “Looks like you’ve got all the basics. And supplies too?”

Tim nods. “Mostly. My sister-in-law gave me all their stuff. She saved it just in case. All the clothes are boy clothes, but I figured it doesn’t really matter that much at this age, right? She won’t care yet. But I’ll buy her some new ones too, if I—well, if. I just know how fast babies go through clothes and we were bringing all the other stuff, so I figured it couldn’t hurt, right?” He ducks his head. 

“That’s an excellent start. I’ll make a note for your file and bring it up at the hearing,” Ms. Logan says brightly.

“About that,” Tim hedges, looking down at the paperwork she’s put in front of him. He doesn’t like to talk about his past, as least not this part of it, but it’ll come out eventually and he’s got to know if he’ll be allowed to keep her. He already cares more than he’d like to without that guarantee.

“Yes?” asks Ms. Logan after a moment.

“Do you know about my criminal record?” he finally asks. “I don’t know if there are laws about getting custody when…” he trails off awkwardly.

“I know, Tim. We check that sort of thing before we hand people babies.” She smiles at him and it doesn’t look fake or patronizing. “If you were a recent re-offender, had a record of any kind of abuse, and didn’t have strong ties to the community then things would have been different.”

Raegan is done with her bottle, so he repositions her onto his shoulder again to burp her. Ms. Logan continues: “You’ve always had parental rights, you just didn’t know about them. We’ll get a meeting scheduled as soon as possible to get you awarded full custody. It just makes things run more smoothly to be able to demonstrate capability. That is, if you want full custody.”

“I do.” 

“There are options,” Ms. Logan says delicately.

“I know,” Tim says. “But no. I want her. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Tim Riggins has truly and deeply loved two girls in his life. Lyla ended up settling far away and she has a good, solid life. She’s married, has a career. Tyra ended up in politics like she said, but bigger than either of them thought. There’s always something between them when she’s in town, but she’s not in town very often. She’s doing good things for Texas, though. Things they both would have sneered at when they were fifteen and needed desperately.

The point is, Tim has known a lot of fine women. He’s slept with a lot of them. But he never really thought he’d have kids of his own. And now Raegan’s here and it’s scary as hell and he hasn’t felt so sure about anything since States his senior year.


	2. Chapter 2

It turns out babies are significantly harder when they don’t know you and there’s only one of you.

Raegan settles in for a nap not long after Ms. Logan left, but she barely sleeps for an hour before she wakes up and starts screaming. 

“Hey, little one,” Tim croons as his lifts her out of the crib. “It’s ok, baby. It’s ok.”

One diaper, three rejected stuffed animals, six attempted books, and a viciously rejected banana later she is still crying. She doesn’t seem to want to be snuggled, but she also doesn’t want to be put down. She’s only hot on her face and chest so Tim’s pretty sure that’s from the screaming, not from being sick or anything.

The best Tim can figure is that he’s not her mama.

“I know, Rae, I know,’ he croons as he bounces her a up and down. “I bet everything smells different and sounds different. I don’t have your stuff or know what food you like. I’m sorry.”

She’s actually calming down a little bit. He doesn’t know if she’s exhausted or if she likes the cadence of his voice when it’s exhausted and a little desperate. He’ll take it either way. 

“I wish your mama was here for you, baby. I wish I could make that happen. But I’m real glad you’re here with me now,” he confides. “I know you don’t know me, and I’m probably not father of the year material, but I’m gonna do everything I can for you.”

He shifts her to the other arm—babies are always heavier than you think—and she noses her way into his neck. “I’ll get you some of your own clothes, and I’ll go to all your dance recitals or games or whatever you like to do. And we’ll figure out what fruit you like, because it can’t be all steaks and beer, right missy? Not until you get a lot more teeth, anyway,” he chuckles, swaying a bit the way Mindy had taught him when the twins were small.

“We’re going to be ok,” he promises her. “I’m gonna mess up a lot, but I swear to you, I will always keep trying. Ok?” He shifts his head to look at her and she giggles when his hair moves around her.

“Oh, you like Daddy’s hair?” he asks without even thinking about assigning himself the title. “Well, so do I. See, we’ve got something in common already,” he says as he shakes his head back and forth exaggeratedly. She laughs again and stretches a hand out to grab his hair.

“Woah, you’ve got a heck of a grip!” he tells her as he lays her down on the couch. He crouches next to her and moves so his hair shifts over her. She grabs for it, kicking her legs and squealing.

“Well, I guess if all else fails we’ve got this as a fallback,” he mutters and shakes his head for her until he’s dizzy.

:~:~:

A knock at the door wakes Tim. He jerks, then tightens his arms before Raegan can fall off—he’d fallen asleep on the living room floor with her on top of him. Again. She’s still not sleeping regularly and the best way to get her to nap is the play with her until she falls asleep on top of his chest.

She’s still out cold, which is a minor miracle.

Mindy pokes her head in. “Hey, sleepyhead,” she says quietly. She’s not surrounded by noise and chaos, so she must have left the kids at home with Billy. “How’s that floor treating you?”

Tim stands, hands Raegan to her, and cracks his back three different ways. Being on the other side of thirty doesn’t feel as old as he would have thought in high school, but there are a few ways it definitely does.

“What’s up, Min?” Tim asks when he’s done yawning.

“I’m here to get to know my niece,” she informs him without looking up from Raegan’s tiny face. “Go away.”

“What?”

Mindy looks at him, then shifts Raegan to one arm so she can fix his hair where the nap apparently messed it up. “I’m going to watch your baby for you. You get out of the house. Grocery shop, check on your ranch, have a conversation with adults. Go.”

That sounds pretty good, actually. “Are you sure?” he double checks.

“Tim Riggins, if you think I can’t handle a baby for a few hours you took more footballs to the head than I thought,” Mindy says in her Mom Tone. Tim’s not sure how to go about developing a tone like that, but he’s pretty sure he’s going to need to at some point. “Besides,” Mindy continues, looking back at the baby, “I haven’t had a baby to cuddle in years. My kids are all big and loud and covered in dirt.”

“She gets pretty loud, trust me,” Tim retorts, but he’s already checking his pockets for his wallet and keys. “Ok, I’ve got my phone and I’ll try not to be too long. The formula’s on the counter, there’s at least one clean bottle. Uh, call me when she wakes up? She’s still kind of not used to things, so if she freaks out just let me know and I’ll come right back. She likes singing. It doesn’t have to be any good. Obviously.” He’s babbling now. Mindy’s looking at him like she wants to record this and mock him with it forever.

“Tim, it’ll be fine. I’ll call you if I need to. Go,” Mindy prods him. He kisses her on the cheek, very carefully kisses Raegan, and heads out.

Tim does go to the grocery store. He buys more of everything he knows Raegan will eat, a few things she hasn’t tried yet, and some easy things for himself. He’s going to learn how to actually cook, and soon. For a picky toddler, probably, and then normal, healthy stuff that parents should cook. He’s not sure if that kind of stuff is on the internet or in cookbooks, or if you’re supposed to just know it from childhood. He’ll have to google it later. Maybe Mrs. Collette can help him.

On the way home, he calls Ms. Logan’s office. “Hello?” she answers quickly.

“Hi, Ms. Logan. This is Tim Riggins,” he responds and debates explaining who he is. She probably has a lot of cases.

“Mr. Riggins, hello!” Ms. Logan actually sounds happy to hear from him. “How are things going? You don’t sound panicked, so I’m assuming well.”

He can’t help laughing at that. He’s actually doing better than a lot of people might be in this situation, apparently. “We’re good. My sister-in-law is watching Raegan for me while I get groceries and stuff.”

“Good. She’s settling in ok?”

“Sort of. That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about, ma’am,” Tim says.

“Oh?”

“Well, I was wondering if I’d be able to get any of her things? From he mom’s I mean. I think she might feel better if she had some things that are familiar. I’m not sure if that makes sense, but…” He trails off as he pulls into his driveway.

“That’s a great idea, actually,” Ms. Logan replies. Oh. Good. “I don’t actually have the details of what’s happening with her personal effects, but I can give you the contact information of her next of kin, her sister.

“That would be great.” Tim didn’t even know Jennifer had a sister. Jesus.

He parks the truck and fishes around in the glove box for a pen. “Uh, what is her name?”

Ms. Logan gives him her name and phone number and tells him to call her anytime.

After he puts the groceries away and calms down a weepy but recovering Raegan, he does a quick survey of the ranch. It’s lucky he has good employees, because he’s barely had a second to take care of things lately. 

Finally, he has no more excuses. He props himself against the barn wall, pulls his phone out, and calls Maggie Demarco.

“Hello?” Crap. It sounds like she’s younger than Jennifer was—in her mid-twenties if not younger. 

“Hi. My name is Tim Riggins and I, well, I’m Raegan’s father—“ he starts to explain.

“Oh my god! You have her, right? The CPS lady said you did. How is she?” Maggie asks in a rush.

“Yeah, I’ve got her. She’s good. I’m taking care of her. And I sort of know what I’m doing because I’ve got nephews, so don’t worry,” he reassures her. He’s worrying all the time now, but he doesn’t want her to be upset. Well, more upset. “The thing is, she doesn’t know me or my house or anything and I was thinking that this whole transition might be easier for her if she had some of her stuff that she’s used to—do you have it, and would you maybe give me some? Not Jen’s things, you should have those, but like blankets and stuffed animals.”

He pauses for a moment, because someday Raegan’s going to want to know about her mother and have something of hers. “And maybe a few pictures of Jen so Rae can have them when she’s older? Just copies or whatever,” he finally stops and hears the muffled sounds Maggie’s making.

She’s breathing like she’s crying but forcing herself not to. Tim feels like an asshole.

“I’m sorry to ask,” he tries.

“No!” Maggie cuts him off. “No, of course you can have Raegan’s things. They’re her things, and what am I going to do with them? I’m really glad that you’re thinking about this. Jenny never told me much about you, so it’s really good to know you—care.”

“Oh,” Tim says, caught of guard. So, he hasn’t made it worse? “Well, she and I didn’t really know each other that well. I liked her, but I live here in Dillon so it’s not like we were going to be able to date and I guess she didn’t think I’d come through? But I would have. I really would have.” 

He doesn’t ever talk this much. Raegan’s been making him because it’s still the best way to calm her down that doesn’t involve his hair getting yanked on. Apparently it’s becoming a habit.

“Could I see Raegan?” Maggie asks tentatively.

“Yeah, of course you can,” Tim says immediately. God, if Billy died and the boys were suddenly just gone, living with a stranger? He’d be going crazy. “Do you want us to come to you or do you want to come here?”

“How about I come with a load of stuff?” Maggie offers. “My apartment isn’t exactly baby-proofed, plus it’s got a lot of Jen’s stuff that we’re trying to sort out right now.”

They make plans for Maggie to come the next morning. She’s obviously desperate to see Raegan.

When they finally hang up, Tim can’t help sighing. It’s a relief—this is two important women who have now approved of his vague idea that having some of her old toys and things will help Raegan, so maybe his first big instinct for his little girl was right. But now he’s going to have to make Maggie keep liking him and thinking he won’t be a terrible parent for her niece. Tomorrow is going to be interesting.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, I have no practical knowledge of how CPS or custody things work. Sorry for any inaccuracies!

The next morning Tim woke up, dithered over what to wear for ten minutes, clipped the baby monitor to his jeans so he could feed the cows, got Raegan dressed, and chased her around the living room trying to tidy up faster than she made messes. He could have put her in the playpen, but she was finally starting to get used to the living room, playing without looking up at every sound like she was expecting Jennifer to come in the door.

So cleaning the living room ended up taking nearly an hour and being largely unproductive, but maybe his kid wasn’t emotionally scarred. Tim would take it.

Of course, it also meant that by the time he got around to fixing both of them breakfast it was nearly time for Maggie to get there. 

“Ok, little Raegan, let’s eat super fast,” he muttered as he fixed a bib around her neck. Obligingly, she smashed several blackberries against her high chair tray and then smeared her hands over about half her face.

“Oh, Jesus.”

She wiggled happily and crammed a berry into her mouth. Some of the juice ran down her shirt and into her diaper.

“You’re killing me, smalls,” Tim muttered as he hoisted her out of the chair. She rubbed her face against his neck, which was very cute and got blackberry juice on the collar of his shirt.

He pulled off his shirt, gently drew Raegan’s over her head, and groped for one of the half dozen boxes of baby wipes scattered across the house. 

He managed to get Raegan cleaned up and changed before he heard a car coming up the driveway. He was holding a new shirt when the knock came at the door. Tim froze. Raegan turned toward the noise and patted his face with her hand.

Tim put her down long enough to pull his shirt over his head, scooped her up again, and jogged to the door.

He opened it to see a woman who looked very different than he’d expected (a younger, shorter version of Jen, probably). She had short hair as dark as Jen’s had been but curly. She was short and round where her sister had been tall and slender. She had the same amount of cleft to her chin and the same long eyelashes, though her eyes were a different brown.

Her hand was raised to knock again, but when she saw Raegan she slapped it over her mouth as she made a muffled little screaming sound. Tim stepped toward her, planning to hand Raegan over, but she swayed toward him and somehow he ended up hugging her with one arm while they both held Raegan and Maggie sobbed.

“Hi,” Tim said after a few moments. “I’m Tim. Nice to meet you.” She laughed into his chest and pulled her face away.

“Hi, Tim. I’m really sorry—“ she started, but Raegan started babbling and she cut herself off. Tim shifted the baby into Maggie’s arms. Raegan cuddled in immediately. Maggie’s still crying, but she’s grinning too. “Hey, Rae-Rae!” she crooned. “I am so goddamn glad to see you.”

Tim grins too and stands back so Maggie can come inside. She’s still talking to Raegan, mostly greetings and nonsense and how much she loves her.

“Do you want me to give you a few minutes with her?” he asks as gently as he can.

Maggie looks away from her niece for the first time. “Yeah, actually, if you don’t mind that would be really nice,” she says like she’s a little embarrassed and a lot grateful.

“No problem,” Tim says, rubbing his neck with one hand—it’s sticky and his hand comes away with blackberry bits. “Apparently I need to wash my neck anyway. Thanks a lot, Rae,” he says teasingly. “I’ll just be there,” he says, vaguely pointing to his room and its en suite bathroom.

After he’s cleaned up, he looks at himself in the mirror. He shaved yesterday, his hair looked pretty much the way it always did. He didn’t look quite as tired as he expected. Honestly, he didn’t look any different, but he kept expecting himself to. It was silly—Billy and Mindy hadn’t become new people when they became parents. (Street kind of did, but he was nineteen and going through a few other transformations at the same time.)

Eventually, he sticks his head out cautiously. Maggie’s sitting on the floor, rolling a ball back and forth with Raegan. Both look up at him and smile. “Hey,” Maggie says and nods at him a little, so he comes in and sits next to them. Maggie leans over and slobbers on his knee briefly, then returns to her game.

“Oh, thank you for that dainty kiss, Raegan,” Tim says and Maggie smiles. “What?” Tim can’t help asking.

“You’re just really good with her. Like, better than I thought after a couple of days of being a parent,” Maggie explains.

“Well,” Tim hedges, pushing his hair out of his face. “This is the easy part, you know?”

Maggie nods. “Yeah.” She pauses for a minute, inspecting him, before she says: “I think Jenny would have told you if she’d known you’d be like this.”

Tim looks down, not quite sure what to do with that.

“Do you, uh. Do you know why she didn’t?” he asks. It’s been bouncing around his head. On the one hand, yeah—she’d barely known him and had no way of knowing if he was interested in kids. But he wasn’t the no-good slacker most folks saw him as in high school (including himself, of course). He had a moderately successful business. He was a good guy. He would have been there.

Maggie pulls Raegan into her lap and bounces her a little.

“She didn’t really know you,” Maggie starts carefully. “She said you’d have no reason to believe her that she was sure it was yours. I think she was planning to eventually, but her life got a little busy”—she ruffled Raegan’s hair—“and she kept putting it off. And then it was too late and you’d be mad if you cared at all, you know? And then it was actually too late.” Maggie swallows.

“And we had some family money and I lived close enough to babysit for the first six months, so it wasn’t like she was drowning, you know?” she continues.

Tim nods. It all makes sense.

“Plus, her dad kind of ran out on our mom when she was born,” Maggie says. “We’re half-sisters, technically. She was close with my dad, but I think she was always kind of waiting for something like that to happen to her.”

“So she didn’t give it a chance to happen,” Tim finishes.

“She felt bad about it,” Maggie offers. “She really was planning to give you a chance. She used to talk about it when she updated these,” she says as she digs through her large bag and pulls out half a dozen photo albums. “She’d say, ‘He might want to see what he missed. If he’s interested and he forgives me, he’ll want to see.’”

She passes the albums to Tim, who opens the first one immediately. They’re fairly simple, but they have pictures with little captions of the date, Raegan’s age, the event, major things that happened. Apparently Rae had been born with hair and she’d been exactly seven pounds.

Maggie’s looking at him expectantly. She’s trying to protect her sister since Jenny can’t protect herself anymore, Tim thinks.

“I’m not mad at her,” he promises. “I wish she’d told me, of course, but I’m not mad. She put me on the birth certificate. She did what she thought was best to protect her kid—we barely knew each other. I can’t blame her for that.”

He means it. The second day he’d had Raegan he’d woken up mad that this was all thrust upon him—he didn’t even know his kid or how to make her happy because Jenny hadn’t given him the chance to. But it hadn’t lasted long. Tim knew plenty of guys who’d run out on their families, or women and kids who’d been run out on.

Billy had been protective of Tim, tried to keep him from knowing just how little their parents cared. Tim hadn’t let him at the time, but he understood it now. Being fair to a stranger wasn’t as important as protecting your kid, not on an instinctual level.

He figures he can’t be too mad at Jenny for something he could see himself doing. He’s grown up a lot that way.

“I’m glad,” Maggie says and she really does look relieved. She’d probably been afraid that he either didn’t want this or was furious it had been kept from him.

“So, tell me about that,” Tim requested, pointing to a picture of three-month-old Raegan in Jenny’s arms, both of them soaking wet and dressed in what appeared to be superhero costumes. If a onesie with a cape could be said to be a superhero costume, anyway.

Maggie laughs without any sadness in it for the first time, and for a moment she looks just like the way Tim remembers Jenny.


End file.
